


Action and Reaction

by Fox_In_A_Box



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, I mean no one's walking in on them, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, but they /are/ doing it in an alley, post-5x11, pre-5x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 08:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19459858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_In_A_Box/pseuds/Fox_In_A_Box
Summary: "[...] Ed Nygma had never been one for acting in the heat of the moment...and yet. And yet there he was, kneeling in front of Oswald in a badly lit alley, the faint beat of music coming from the entrance of the Sirens' club ringing in his ears as he tried to concentrate."





	Action and Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> So, I mentioned Ed giving Oswald his first blowjob in an alley in the other smut fic I wrote some time ago. And, since I have no impulse control when it comes to writing, I HAD to turn it into a proper one-shot.   
> Hope you enjoy!

He should have thought it through.

It wasn't like him to take up a task without careful planning beforehand, to let himself be guided by his impulses rather than by logical thinking. No, Ed Nygma had never been one for acting in the heat of the moment...and yet. And yet there he was, kneeling in front of Oswald in a badly lit alley, the faint beat of music coming from the entrance of the Sirens' club ringing in his ears as he tried to concentrate.

He could have blamed many things for his momentary lapse of judgement. The weariness clouding his mind after a long day running around Gotham in search for useful resources, for one. Or he could have blamed the silent glances Oswald kept shooting him during the negotiations with Barbara Kean. Or Oswald's heavy breathing against his ear when he had pushed him up against the wall, the way he ground his hips down on his hand or how desperate his voice sounded when he exhaled the fatal words _'Ed, please'_ against his lips. But the truth was - there was no one else to blame but himself.

The deafening blast of the grenade still haunted his nightmares, along with Oswald's agonising screams of pain. One split second had been enough for Ed to be overwhelmed by the fear of having lost his second chance, now having to witness all the efforts they had made to rebuild their relationship turn to dust right in front of him. Luck had been on their side, that day, but the experience had left him with a strange kind of urgency coiling inside his chest. The nagging impression that each second, each minute he let pass by was a minute he wasn't going to get back. It was the reason why he took advantage of any chance he had to hold Oswald in his arms, press a kiss to his lips whenever they parted, show him the extent of his affection in every way he was able to, while he still could.

The very same reason why he had found it impossible to keep himself from pulling Oswald along in that alley as soon as they had walked out of the club, trapping him against the wall and kissing him until his lungs ached for air. Something had clicked in his head and he had thought that unceremoniously dropping on his knees on the filthy concrete, uncaring for the grime that would surely stick to his green slacks, would have been the most sensible thing to do. Instead of, say, summoning a cab to retire in the privacy and comfort provided by the empty rooms of Van Dahl manor.

It was hardly the best place to practice his first blowjob - with the ever-present threat of a drunk club goer stumbling upon them to add to the natural nervousness he felt creeping up his back. _It's not too late,_ a voice at the back of his head whispered. He could still raise to his feet, laugh it off with a joke and try to ignore the other man's disappointment. He could, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. And when he saw Oswald look down at him, his blue eye blown wide with surprise, he knew there was no going back.

Ed fumbled with Oswald's belt, hands shaking in anticipation, until he was able to unclasp the buckle and shove his black pinstriped trousers halfway down his thighs. Underneath them, his briefs strained in a way that bore the unmistakable signs of arousal. Ed leaned in and pressed a kiss over the smooth fabric. The sound Oswald made in response was a choked gasp that made him all the more eager to discover all the different little sounds he could draw from his mouth.

Still, it took him some time to summon enough courage to pull the briefs down as well, finally granting the other man some semblance of relief. Ed felt Oswald shudder, as the cold evening air brushed his skin, and chuckled briefly to himself. He had felt how hard he was under his touch, with layers of fabric in the way, but to see him laid bare before him - that was something else. Ed found himself holding his breath, excitement mixed with just a tinge of embarrassment flooding through his veins. But he'd be damned if he would have let that stop him.

It couldn't be that difficult, he reasoned, people did it all the time. He just needed to keep breathing, in and out from his nose, and everything would go just according to plan. Except he hadn't had the time to come up with a proper plan and now he was left to improvise, and oh dear the last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself in front of Oswald. He tried to shake the bothersome thoughts from his head. He just needed to act natural. Go with the flow, start little and work his way up. _Come on, Ed, you've got this!_

Oswald must have taken notice of his sudden uncertainty, because his voice had a similarly hesitant undertone when he spoke. His concerns over Ed's wellbeing clashed against the burning need to have him go through with the obscene promise he had made him the moment he had fallen on his knees.

"You don't have to do this," he said. "If you've changed your mind...It's alright. I mean it."

Ed hummed in acknowledgement. "You're right, I don't have to. But I want to."

He flashed him his best confident smirk, hoping it would be enough to hide the how fast his poor heart was beating in his chest. And it worked, as Oswald swallowed hard under his stare and just nodded. It didn't take some extraordinary observational skill to tell he was impatient. Making him wait any longer would have been nothing short of painful, and that was the exact opposite of what Ed had in mind.

The first, tentative lick on the tip was met with a sharp intake of breath from Oswald, followed by proper moan, straight from the back of his throat, once Ed felt bold enough to lick a long stripe along the underside. Oswald's legs almost bucked, then. Good thing his back was resting against the wall; given such exquisite reactions to the smallest attentions, Ed wouldn't have trusted him to be able to remain on his feet any longer, and he wasn't sure he would have had the necessary strength to keep him upright.

"Oh God--" Oswald mumbled from above him. The tone of his voice was already husky, tainted by so much want that Ed felt compelled to answer his unspoken request for more.

He carried on, alternating short licks on the tip with open-mouthed kisses along the side of Oswald's cock. And he stopped, from time to time, allowing himself to tease him a bit by pressing his lips on the warm skin of his upper thighs. He chuckled at the empty threats Oswald groaned in his direction, only to be chocked by yet another moan as Ed went back to lap at his erection. Ed was somewhat grateful he didn't need to dissimulate his inexperience; judging by the noises he was making, Oswald was already too far gone to even notice the occasional bout of hesitation on his part.

It was then that Ed realised the mistake he had made. He should have been more patient. He always teased Oswald for his remarkable short temper, but _he_ had been the one unable to control his impulses when he had decided to take him right there instead of waiting to be home. Had they made it back at the mansion, he now would have had the chance to enjoy Oswald's every little whimper, with no need to hide or conceal his appreciation for fear of being caught. No low, pounding music preventing him from taking in each inflection of his lover's voice as he praised him, spurred him on, encouraging words morphing into nonsense as Ed's tongue flicked over his skin. No green and reddish lights from the nearby neon signs casting strange shadows on Oswald's face, depriving him from the sight of his features twisted in pleasure whenever he dared to look up. No aching knees and no rush to come to the end, only the soft press of silk blankets and all the time in the world to test how long it would take for Oswald come undone under his touch.

Ed willed the thought away. No use in pondering about what could have been, lingering in the realm of unrealised possibilities. There wasn't enough time for that - not when as soon as his eyes met Oswald's all he could see was a silent plea to _not leave me hanging, not now, I beg of you, Ed._

In spite of the initial apprehension, he soon grew more confident. He discovered that he only needed to listen to what he could grasp of Oswald's voice, pay attention to all the subtle hints his body was giving him to know what felt good and what didn't. To every action corresponds an equal reaction. Anyone who thought of himself as a man of science had to know as much. And, as far as Ed was concerned, there wasn't any science he was more willing to devote himself to than the one of making the great Oswald Cobblepot melt in the throes of pleasure.

With precisely that intent in mind, he removed one of his hands form Oswald's hip and used it to grip the base of his erection instead. He managed to take him more than halfway into his mouth, before having to pull away gasping for air.

"Are you alright?" When he looked up and met Oswald's gaze, he noticed the worried crease of his eyebrows.

"Right as rain," he reassured him, though with some strain in his voice.

As much as he would have loved to take him all the way, if only to witness his no doubt exquisite reaction, that would have to wait. Practice makes perfect, after all, and this was only his first attempt. The mental picture of Oswald spreading his legs for him, offering himself as a very much willing subject for him to practice his skills on was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

He adjusted his hold on the base and guided it into his mouth once more, slower this time, mindful of his own gag reflex. The lack of audible cue from the other man surprised him, but it wasn't long before he discovered the reason of his apparent silence. Ed's eyes darted up and he was confronted with the most enticing sight he could possibly ask for. Oswald with his raven hair in disarray, eye squeezed shut and head tilted back against the wall, one gloved hand covering his mouth. Then, he _did_ hear a small sound. A sound he quickly identified as teeth biting down on leather in a desperate attempt at stifling the moans that threatened to spill from his lips. If Ed hadn't been hard and aching already, that would have done it.

He began to work his head up and down, settling for a slow, controlled rhythm. It didn't take more than a few moments for Oswald to lose every ounce of composure he had left.

His free hand found its way in Ed's hair. The grip was gentle, at first, fingers drawing small circles on Ed's scalp, lightly tugging at his hair in time with his ministrations. In response to Ed swallowing around him, however, they suddenly tightened in a rough grip. The rational part of Ed's brain knew that what he was feeling fell under the category of 'pain', but his lust-dazed mind somehow registered it as something more akin to pleasure. Something he found himself craving, as soon as Oswald used said hand to guide him gently but firmly to take more of his cock. He let himself be guided. He let Oswald set the pace, almost relieved to let him take control for a while, and oh so eager to learn how he liked it, what he wanted from him, what made him bite back a whine and plead for more.

After that, it didn't last much longer. It was fascinating, though, how he could almost _feel_ Oswald approaching his climax, feel him twitch in his mouth as he did his best to take more of it and kiss and lick all in the right places, that were sure to leave him shaking and hiding a whimper behind the back of his hand.

"Ed, I'm--"

"Yes," Ed panted, pulling away for a brief moment. "Yes, I know. I want to try something."

As soon as he took him back between his lips, Oswald came with a muffled cry that somewhat resembled Ed's name. Ed, for his part, swallowed what he could of his release but soon ended up coughing and sputtering down on the ground.

"Well," he said, wiping his mouth with one hand. "I suppose it's an acquired taste."

"An acquired taste," Oswald repeated, incredulous, looking at him as if he still couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. Then, he let out a breathless laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"I think we both have room for improvement," Ed remarked, unable to suppress the small grin forming on the corner of his lips at the praise. "But thank you, nonetheless."

Oswald hastily fixed his clothes, then offered him his hand to help him raise to his feet, which Ed graciously accepted. Next thing Ed knew, he was being pushed back against the very same wall on which Oswald had been leaning. Oswald's lips were on his neck, a kiss followed by the faint feeling of teeth brushing along his throat. Not quite biting yet, just grazing his heated skin as some sort of silent threat. Or promise. Ed shuddered.

"Let me help you with that," Oswald murmured against his pulse, before nipping at it.

Ed felt Oswald's right hand slide between his legs, palm at his arousal still confined in the tight prison of his slacks, as the other cupped his cheek. It was with some reluctance and no small amount of willpower, that he grabbed Oswald's wrist and prevented him from going any further.

The other man blinked up at him in confusion, brows knitted together in a small frown. "I refuse to leave you in these-- in these conditions, Ed. Not after what you have done for me. So please, stop playing the generous lover and let me help you. It's the least I can do."

It was impressive how quick he was to find his usual eloquence, after his extensive vocabulary had been reduced to a handful of words and a couple of barely restrained curses only a minute before. Oswald sounded almost outraged. As if he couldn't forgive him for believing, even for a single moment, that Oswald Cobblepot wasn't enough of a gentleman to return the favour. Ed found the thought rather amusing.

"It's not like that," he tried to explain. "Actually, I would like that very much. I just, uhm, think we should relocate."

Oswald considered his proposition. His only eye moved from Ed, to the entrance of the alley they had repaired to. He seemed to be pondering on how acceptable it would be to leave his dear friend in such a predicament for twenty more minutes or so - just the time it would take them to find a cab and make it back to the mansion - in favour of settling somewhere more comfortable, away from the unintelligible chattering of the Sirens' patrons going back and forth from the doors of the club and the sidewalk right outside. In the end, he nodded.

"Good idea." Then, giving him a light pat on the back as a playful encouragement. "Come on, Mr. Nygma, lead the way!"

Ed smiled, at that. "With pleasure, Mr. Penguin."


End file.
